


For Better, For Worse

by Goldy



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Future Fic, Post-Time Skip, Season 5 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:53:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27513373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldy/pseuds/Goldy
Summary: Jughead plans to ask Betty to marry him. And he did have a plan. A very specific, well thought out plan.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 53
Kudos: 98
Collections: 8th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	For Better, For Worse

**Author's Note:**

> This is just... pure fluff. Yes, sometimes I do write fluff. Because life can be hard, and we should have nice things to cheer us up. I hope you enjoy!

Jughead swipes wet hair off his forehead as he tramps after Betty through Fox Forest. His feet squish through the ground as mud seeps in through his sneakers and between his toes. A thick curtain of rain pelts down through the trees. He grits his teeth and hurries after his girlfriend whose only protection from the rain is a light windbreaker emblazoned with the FBI logo across the back. She is as soaked as he is. Her ponytail clings to the back of her neck and her pants are splattered with mud stains.

It is safe to say that the night has _not_ gone according to plan.

And he had a plan. A very specific, well thought out plan.

Jellybean helped him pick out an engagement ring with a turquoise opal stone. “ _It’s elegant,”_ she explained. “ _It will match her eyes. But it’s not too in-your-face. She still needs to be taken seriously by her colleagues, you know.”_

As a bonus, it turned out that an opal ring was much more in his price range as a struggling, independent investigative reporter than a diamond ring.

His father sent him out the door with a warm hand on his shoulder: _“You make this night special, boy. After all you two have been through over the years, Betty deserves it. You only do this once.”_

He convinced Pop to invest in some candles and close down the diner early so it would be just the two of them. He had even welcomed the cold, rainy weather. It seemed right. He and Betty, snuggled into a booth at Pop’s under candlelight, each with their favourite burger and milkshake.

He planned what he was going to say: “ _Betty, we were separated for long enough. I never want to be separated from you again. Will you spend the rest of your life with me?”_

But they never made it to Pop’s. Betty sniffed out a lead, and now here they are, tramping through mud and clay in a torrential downpour in search of whoever is masquerading through their town as a mothman. Meanwhile, the engagement ring feels like it is burning a hole in Jughead’s pocket. Every few steps, he slips his hand in his pocket to reassure himself that it is still there. Still safe.

When Betty stops abruptly, Jughead has to pivot out of the way to avoid crashing into her.

He has to fight to be heard over the rain. “WHAT?” he hollers.

Betty’s boots squelch in the mud as she turns around. His is momentarily blinded when her flashlight hits him in the eyes and he makes a noise that sounds like a hissing kettle before she drops the beam of the flashlight to her feet.

“I THINK WE LOST HIM!” Betty yells back.

“YOU DON’T SAY!”

Even in the poor light, Jughead catches the slight wrinkle in her brow at his tone.

Her voice is quieter when she says, “Jug, are you okay?”

He answers before he can stop himself. “Other than the fact that I will be cleaning mud out of places I don’t want to think about a month from now and I might catch hypothermia if we stay out here much longer and, oh yeah, we missed the dinner plans I made for us—other than that, sure, I’m fine!”

Betty blinks at him. And then blinks at him again. He is not sure that she is processing his words so much as blinking rainwater out of her face. Then she secures her flashlight in the pocket of her windbreaker and frames his face with her hands. Her hands are cold and clammy from the rain, but her touch immediately soothes him. His irritation turns to guilt for yelling at her—after all, she did not know he was planning to propose, and when had he ever turned down a chance to investigate something fishy in the woods with her before?

“You had something planned,” she says. Her words are soft enough that he has to strain to hear her. “For us. And I ruined it.”

“No,” he says. And then, “Maybe a little.”

Her gaze seems to pierce through his and he suddenly finds his brain short-circuiting because _she knows_. He doesn’t know how she knows, but she knows, he knows she knows. And of course she would know. He had Jellybean help him pick out the ring! And Jellybean had surprisingly direct instructions for him! He thought it had been just her sisterly intuition at the time. But she must have ratted him out to Betty. Some investigative reporter he is turning out to be.

His next breath feels a little tighter. What is he supposed to do now? Admit it? Propose to Betty in the middle of this mud-soaked rain storm? Beat a hasty retreat with the ring in hopes that she forgets this ever happened and he can try again tomorrow?

But—no—he probably should not abandon her in a rainstorm in the woods with a potentially dangerous moth-creature on the loose. That could cause her to re-evaluate their ongoing relationship which would ultimately be contrary to his goal of ensuring they spend the rest of their lives together.

  
“Jughead,” says Betty softly, her face scrunching up in a way that is apologetic and also, so cute. He would do anything for her with her looking at him like that. He wonders if she knows that. (He is pretty sure she does). “Do you want to go back to Pop’s? Try and salvage the night?”

He mutely shakes his head.

Betty leans in closer until he can feel her breath on his face. “Is there… I mean, is there something you want to talk to me about? Or ask me?”

He closes his eyes and presses his wet forehead against hers. His heart is pounding and he can feel his fingers itching against his pocket. He does not know why he is so nervous. This is _Betty_. The woman he has loved for… well, a really long time. The woman he never wants to be separated from again.

He nods and then opens his eyes. Her green eyes peer deeply back into his.

“I wanted it to be romantic,” he whispers. When did his voice get so scratchy? “I wanted to at least buy you a milkshake.”

“That sounds perfect,” Betty agrees. She nuzzles her nose against his. Her next words sound thick. “Of course, here, like this, in the woods in the middle of the night, chasing down some mystery? That’s also perfect.”

“Maybe,” he says grudgingly, and Betty gives him a _look_ —a look that questions why he is bothering to argue with her rather than just give her the ring already. “It’s just,” he points out hurriedly, “it doesn’t exactly set the benchmark for high romance, does it?”

To illustrate his point, he swipes a clot of mud off the tip of Betty’s nose. She frowns at his movement and then shakes her head. “Try me,” she challenges.

“I—okay,” he relents. Nerves still buzz in his mind, but he slips his hand into his pocket and then he pulls out the engagement ring. He opens the box between them and Betty swings up the flashlight so she can study it.

He watches her face in the glow from her flashlight as the rain continues to pelt down between them.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmurs. “Exactly what I would want.” He smile is teasing. “How did you know?”

“I have excellent intuition,” he says with a shrug. He is about to tell her to put it on when he realizes he has not in fact _asked_ her anything yet. “So…” he says haltingly. What is the _point_ of being a writer when words escape him when he needs them most? He tries again: “So… what do you think?”

She does not seem put off by his stuttering. Her face glows and then she throws her arms around him. “I think that I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you. We spent enough time apart.”

He hangs onto the ring in midair, somewhat awkwardly, as Betty plants kisses to his cheeks, nose, and then finally his lips. She tastes sweet and like rainwater and something _Betty_.

Then she pulls away and reaches for the ring but he clears his throat. “Can I… let me?”

She nods and he plucks the ring out of its case. He holds the ring carefully between his fingers, all-too-aware that in the rain he could easily drop it on the mud soaked ground and, if he did that, he would never forgive himself. Hands steady, he slips the ring onto the fourth finger of her left hand.

She looks down at the ring, her face shining. “It fits perfectly,” she says. “I love it.”

“I love you.”

She bites down on a smile and then takes his arm. “We can come back and look for the mothman haunting Riverdale tomorrow. How about a celebratory milkshake at Pop’s?

He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Only if you’re paying.”


End file.
